“My purpose is fulfilled. May Fate guide and keep you,” I mumbled the calling card of Fate’s acolytes to an empty room,my feet carrying me to Fate’s temple as I shed the skin of Pip, ready for my next assignment.
Chapter 12
Ellowyn
The temple of Fate was a familiar sight, even if it was in a relatively unfamiliar location. Similar to the structure in Katiska, Vespera’s temple was large but plain. Giant columns carved into the likeness of Fate’s many faces adorned the outside and supported the roof, while endless black stone steps led to large obsidian doors.
It seemed that the temple here was carved from the same stone that comprised the Academy.
I wonder if it’s natural to Vespera or if these structures predate our modern time?
The thought was idle but a welcome distraction from what I was about to do—from the proverbial shackle I would willingly add to my life. A necessary evil if I were to have any opportunity at fixing the Elyria Lord d’Refan broke.
I gathered the sides of my long silk wedding dress in shaky hands before slowly ascending the stairs, the heels of my shoes clicking audibly with each step.
Surprisingly, the temple was deserted. There were no revelers, no citizens demanding entry to the wedding of their lord. As I crested the top of the stairs—my lungs and legsburning from the climb—I noticed that even the acolytes were scarce.
Either this temple was relatively understaffed, which I thought doubtful, or Alois insisted on a private, intimate affair. The gesture was oddly calming.
I hated crowds, hated ostentatious displays, and I wondered if he’d remembered that from my Awakening. It sure seemed to be the case, considering the dress that was made for me was the complete opposite of the gown selected by my mother. This one truly showed every bump and curve, highlighting my more womanly assets, and I could almost imagine the disgusted, scandalized expression on Mother’s face.
A pang of sadness ripped through me suddenly at the thought that neither my parents nor my brother would be here to see me married.
Not that any of them would approve anyway.
Though I felt like I no longer needed their approval or their guidance, their previous directions were well-intentioned but led me astray from the path that would have prevented Finian’s death and Peytor’s banishment. Now I had my own heart, my own mind, as guidance, and something in my gut insisted that this was the right course of action, no matter how much I abhorred my future husband.
My steps were sure and light as I made my way farther into the temple, a direct opposition to the heavy thuds of my heart.
“Good morning,” an androgynous voice sounded from my right, and I startled briefly before turning to see a masked and robed figure. Their head was covered by a simple black hood, denoting their rank as an acolyte. They were slightly shorter than my near six-foot height, and the billowing black robe hid any secondary sex characteristics.
Instantly, the tension in my muscles eased. While the temple was in a different city and I was here for a much differentpurpose than acting as a Bond Specialist, there was comfort in the familiarity of the rites and rituals.
It felt a bit like home.
“Good morning.” I bowed my head respectfully, an indication of their station and servitude to Fate. “Are you here to lead me?”
The robed acolyte inclined their head slightly before gesturing for me to follow. We walked at a clipped but measured pace, which allowed me to see the remainder of the temple. While Katiska’s temple held effigies of each god—Fate, Kaos, and Solace—this temple only displayed images of the many faces of Fate.
There were numerous statues—all obsidian black to match the stone floors, walls, and ceilings—lit solely by hundreds of candles at the base. The resulting effect was eerie, the glow from the candles casting dancing shadows against the walls. Despite it all, I felt no fear, only the tremble of anticipation.
The acolyte led us to a door recessed into a wall before tapping quickly on various runes inscribed within the frame. Their hand moved too quickly for me to track the movements, and I idly wondered if the pattern was the same as the temple in Hestin.
“Lady d’Refan”—my eyebrows rose at the use of my future married name—“this is where I leave you. Only you, the acolyte, and Lord d’Refan are permitted past this juncture. I shall wait here for your return.”
The Mage who escorted me from the manor hinged at the waist in a respectful, if not shallow, bow before turning so his back was to the now open door, his eyes constantly scanning and watchful.
Without a word in return, I swept through the doorway into the hallway beyond. The door closed with a softthunkbefore we were encased nearly in darkness, not a sound to be heard. From the folds of their robes, the acolyte produced a glowing MageOrb. Held aloft in their hand, they continued gliding toward our destination. The light of the Mage Orb was a brilliant white-blue, a stark contrast to the soft flames of the candles in the main worship space. I scrunched my eyes against the glare and diverted my stare, choosing to keep watch of my feet lest I step on the generous hem of my dress.
Without a word, I followed the acolyte down the hallway, the soft tap of my heels and the scrape of my dress against the ground the only sounds. Soon, we came to a stop outside a nondescript black door—one of many that lined this back hallway.
The acolyte quickly pocketed the Mage Orb before tapping a sequence of runes again. In my momentary blindness from the disappearing light, I could only guess what was happening. The door creaked open to reveal a small ceremonial room. It was devoid of furniture, really just an open, cavernous space, and I was slightly underwhelmed.
That was, until I looked up; the ceiling appeared nonexistent in this room. Instead, the walls seemed to disappear into an endless black sky. Magic rippled and danced in the air; diaphanous tendrils wound around each other in a sensual dance while stars twinkled behind.
My mouth gaped open as I stared in awe. It was mesmerizingly beautiful and reminded me of the sky in the Dreamscape.
I wonder if this is how it looks without the clouds, without the storm.
